


So... You're like, a sex freak, right?

by br0jangles, Nuhmarika



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death Wish, Earth C, M/M, Oral, Pain Kink, Rough Sex, Top John, Violent Sex, bottom dirk, breath play, do not eat, kinda dead dove., manic john, misuse of godtier powers, not snuff but..........., subspace?, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0jangles/pseuds/br0jangles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuhmarika/pseuds/Nuhmarika
Summary: John solicits Dirk to help him try out a few new kinks.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	So... You're like, a sex freak, right?

It’s a normal, beautiful day on earth C. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. 

A perfect day for John to visit Dave and his hella weird bro. 

He flies over as the breeze, quite content with avoiding swarms of 'nak's and expectant eyes. Just a normal Tuesday. 

He's pretty sure it's Tuesday. 

When he notices that one of the windows to their shared flat is open, he grins and slips inside, looking around curiously. 

It's kind of a mess. He's not surprised, the Striders themselves are kinda messy. They'd feel better if they at least took out old boxes of Chow Mein, but he's not really one to talk. 

Dave doesn't seem to be around the flat, but Dirk seems to be tinkering with something by the kitchen-table. A small thrill goes through him, and he materializes behind him and paps his shoulders, turning into the breeze and moving  _ through _ him to sit on the other side of the table, cheek in hand, eyes squinted almost shut with the force of his grin. 

"Hey! Where's Dave?"

Dirk doesn’t notice that anyone is there. He doesn’t hear John moving. Doesn’t feel the energy in the room shift. He’s so squarely focused on his project, in his own world, he  _ almost  _ doesn’t even notice the ghost of John passing through him.

He blinks when he hears a voice, glances up to see John sitting on the other side of the table. When the fuck did he get here?

“Dave’s right there,” he says, unbothered by the sudden appearance. He points toward the couch, before turning to see that-- oh, Dave left. Huh. 

Doesn’t matter.

He pulls his hand back in and turns his eyes back down to what he’s been working on. He’s almost finished with it, and he’ll be damned if Dave’s little friend is going to cause him to lose more than the fifteen seconds he’s already lost.

Hm! Disappointing. John can't even call that a proper reaction. John huffs a little, pouting when Dirk's gaze slides off him like oil on water. In water? 

He snickers a little to himself, taking in the little gremlin in front of him. "Did you just  _ not _ notice that Dave was gone? How long have you been working on that...?" He floats from his seat to lean forward and see better.

Dirk huffs an irritated sigh. He had been perfectly content just a minute ago, to block out the outside world and tunnel in on his machine. It works like a charm, leaving him to get shit  _ done. _

Until someone breaks his focus, that is. Once he’s tuned into an outside force, it’s like he can’t tune it back out. And now John is the mosquito in his ear.

“What do you want?” he asks, not answering the question. Who cares if he didn’t notice Dave was gone. He’s not Dave’s fucking keeper, the guy can do whatever he wants. “I’m busy,” he says again, as if it weren’t already obvious.

John rolls his eyes, unimpressed. A smile still quirks his lips up though, and with a flip of his finger he's pushing the machine a little towards the edge of the table. 

"Oooh, is this the rumoured Dirk Hissyfit Strider? I've heard about him, he's like, the second grumpiest guy on earth C besides Karkat Vantas himself!" He makes the machine hop up and down heavily, and he mutters an insincere 'oops' when something loose tinkles onto the floor. 

"I just wanted to know where Dave was..." He pouts again, taking in Dirk's form. He's strong, he knows, but mostly fast. Not built for strength like himself. Swordkind, while 'ironically cool,' is quite light compared to his hammerkind. 

He wants to arm wrestle him, just to win. 

"But I guess you'll do! I'm just  _ really _ bored." He is bored sure, but he's actually glad Dave's not here. "Maybe I just wanna see you work?"

_ ’I guess you’ll do.’  _ What the fuck is Dirk, second prize? He puts two firm hands around his machine, holding it in place as his eyes snap to the piece that clattered to the floor.

They snap back up, glaring at John. For once, he almost wishes he weren’t wearing his shades, so John could see exactly how annoying he’s being. But glaring isn’t cool, so the shades can stay.

He lets it all roll off his back, sitting up a little straighter. Fuck John and fuck his games. He’s got a project to finish. He doesn’t actually care if all John wants is to sit there and watch. That doesn’t bother him. It’s the  _ noise  _ that bothers him.

“Dave has a cell phone for a reason,” he points out. “If you’re staying, sit down and be quiet. I don’t have time for these shenanigans.”

John just smiles sweeter at Dirk's obvious tension, and he eyes Dirk's hands on the machine before looking up to his shaded face again. 

"Yeah, oh, totally, I shoulda just sent him a message I guess, how silly of me." He doesn't reach for his phone though. He just continues looking at Dirk expectantly. 

_ Shenanigans _ . That's a word for it. 

He waits for Dirk to get back into the zone again, then flicks his finger so Dirk's shades jump a little on his nose, and his sweet smile stretches a bit wider. 

John has been wondering, you see. Has had a little cruise on the internet, and while he wouldn't categorise himself as  _ gay _ ... Um. Maybe he wouldn't categorise himself as straight either. 

Wow, lame. That's not even the point; the point is, he found some stuff online, and while it sounded fun (like,  _ really _ fun), he's been hesitant to actually try it out. 

"So, you're some kind of sex-freak, right?" His voice is deceitfully light, blue eyes on Dirk's face, fingers on his other hand drumming on the table.

Well… that worked? John shut up?

Dirk won’t complain.

It’s easy for him to slip back into work mode. The seconds pass, or minutes, or hours, really who can say. Time is irrelevant, especially when you room with Dave Strider.

There’s a part that won’t fit. He furrows his brows at it, mind turning over and over, trying to figure out what he’s missing. He’s about to start muttering to himself, until he remembers that a piece fell on the floor. He doesn’t get the chance to grab it, though, before his shades are moving off his face?

They bounce up, then back down, and he’s shaken for a half a second before he remembers-- John. John is still here, and he has stupid annoying windy powers. Why didn’t Dirk get something he could pester people with? The only pestering he can seem to manage is to himself.

Hm.

What was he doing?

He glances up, plays what John said over in his head again. After another delayed second, he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. He doesn’t see what that has to do with anything.

He finally bends down to pick up the missing piece.

Man, Dirk is a little hard to push off the high horse. 

John doesn't  _ really _ mind; it's fun with a challenge!

"What, aren't you at least a  _ little _ interested in why I asked? I'm calling you sex-freak, and you're like, sure, that's Dirk Strider alright!" Why does he keep saying his whole name? Ugh. 

"Maybe I found like, all your secret smuppet sex tapes, and I'm gonna show all of them to... I don't know, Jane or whatever! Maybe I'm blackmailing you! You never know!" He's honestly not even sure if Dirk likes smuppets, but it seemed pretty prevalent in Dave's youth. 

"I bet you fuck smuppets all the time." He giggles to himself, leaning back in his chair, still looking straight at him. He wonders what's gonna catch, what's gonna make Dirk twitch and hunch up his shoulders. 

Wow, John didn't realize this would come so naturally to him. Maybe it's not kink at all, he feels like he's annoying like this all the time. 

The warmth in his groin is a little bit different, though.

Dirk shrugs noncommittally as John starts accusing him of things he definitely does. Okay, he doesn’t actually fuck the smuppets. Not for enjoyment, anyway. But he  _ has. _

You know. For the irony. And because it made him a  _ fucking lot  _ of money. Damn, is John still talking?

“Do you think I care if someone sees my pornos? They’re on the internet. I’m definitely totally shy about it, dude, don’t call me out like this.” His voice is deadpan as he talks, like they’re talking about the weather or what sports team won the big game over the weekend.

He hasn’t looked up yet, but he does now, with an eyebrow raised over the point of his shades. “Did you watch my pornos, John?” he asks. Maybe if he flips the switch and starts being the annoying one, John will leave. “What did you think? Too much puppet? Not enough puppet. There’s  _ never _ enough puppet, I know. You’re right. Maybe I need to switch gears a little bit here.”

He sets his project down on the table, actually finding himself suddenly disinterested in it. He stands and moves to go dig through his closet, talking as he goes. “I’ve been working on this thing-- you’re going to  _ love it.” _

He disappears for a moment, and when he’s back, he’s got this… horrifying thing in his hands. “It moves,” he says, pointing to various bits of it. He’s slipping again, focused now on the puppet in his hands instead of John. Even when he keeps talking, he’s not really talking to John.

He sits at the table again, other project pushed aside, setting to work on the new one. He tinkers with it, mouth still moving. “It needs a little work, but. It’s cute right?” Cute is an objective word. “It’s going to be a fully functional sex simulator. It’ll fuck. It’ll suck. It’ll do anything you want it to. Neat, right?”

So Dirk is gonna be like that, huh! John wasn't really expecting Dirk to turn it around and get super explicit about it, but it's a good chance. If he's so open about talking about his porno (of course he actually does it.) with John, maybe he finds him at least a little attractive. 

Though...

"Holy shit that thing looks disgusting!" He exclaims it with with wide eyed curiosity, actually floating up from his seat to hover over the table to take a closer look. 

He fastens that gaze on Dirk again, his grin widening. "How far have you gotten with it? Has it fucked you yet?" He gives Dirk a pretty obvious once-over, his gaze lingering on his crotch before meeting his shades again. "I knew you were a freak, but it's actually really hilarious that you built a robot just so someone would fuck you!" 

The wind inches him closer to Dirk's side of the table, and he's pretty much on his stomach in the air, his cheeks in his hands. 

"I want a practical demonstration!" His grin widens even more, gums peeking out from under his lips, eyes still wide. "Maybe if it's good enough, I'll pay for a subscription to your smuppet-sites." He only barely manages to hold in a laugh. 

This is  _ so _ fucking funny!

Dirk scoffs a little. Of course John wouldn’t get it. He didn’t build the thing because he couldn’t get laid, he built it because it’s  _ hot. _ Ironically.

Regardless.

“It’s not very good at performing anything but simple rhythms and patterns so far. It can’t pick up on cues or follow nuance. At best, it’s only good for edging right now. Or for someone who’s really easy to get off, I guess.”

The way John hovers over him blocks his light. He can’t properly see what he’s doing, but it doesn’t really matter. Most of the work he still needs to do is in the code.

He absolutely has not picked up on the fact that John is trying to flirt with him.

He admires the puppets face for a moment. It’s truly a masterpiece, if he can say so himself. He turns the thing to face John, holding it up for him to admire too. Assuming John has a thing for puppets. Did he just say he was subscribed to Dirk’s website? That’s so awesome.

A little hard to believe, though. This guy doesn’t look like he could keep up with that kind of thing, now that Dirk is actually looking at him. He looks a little disgusted by the toy, if not amused. Well okay, that’s kind of the reaction he was going for.

“You wanna watch me fuck the puppet, John?” he asks, slipping into something a little more antagonistic again, less lost in thought. “Which one of us was the freak again?”

Blah blah, robot jargon. 

It's a sex robot. It's pretty cool that it can edge Dirk, though! 

"Aaactually, I want watch the  _ puppet _ fuck  _ you _ !" John gently pokes at the smuppet-face, making a playful little grimace before looking to Dirk again. His eyes are a little too focused and wide, his grin a tad too wild. "Well,  _ I _ want to fuck you, but I think seeing you being fucked by a puppet is actually a pretty nice bonus." 

It's kind of hard to imagine stoic Dirk on his knees, drool dripping heavily onto the floor as the puppet jackrabbits its nose into him. Dirk's red face as he looks up to John pleadingly, tears in his eyes, embarrassed and horny, but he can't come because it's not enough for him to come. 

Okay, so it's actually  _ really easy _ to imagine it. 

"I didn't say I wasn't a freak. I just know you're a big one!" He wants to hurl more degrading talk at him, but maybe it's a bit too soon. He doesn't quite know where Dirk's limit is. 

If he even has a limit, really.

Dirk’s brain feels like it’s pushing through molasses to catch up with what John is saying. He stops, replays it, then again. The sudden flip from annoying, unwanted banter to  _ ’I want to fuck you’  _ is jarring enough to make him put the robot down.

Is that what John has been trying to get at this whole time?

Didn’t John come here for  _ Dave?  _ He really is just a consolation prize, isn’t he?

He narrows his eyes at John, who’s resting so comfortably in the air above him. Cheeky little grin on his face. Looking so pleased with himself. What a little fucking punk.

He lets his face relax. Being mad about it isn’t very cool, Dirk. And if John is trying to get his  _ freak  _ on, so to speak, who would Dirk be to say no? He could use a break from his work anyway, and it’s been a while.

And, aw, John thinks he can top Dirk? Cute. Maybe he should let him try. Maybe he should say some of this out loud.

“I don’t know, dude. What can you offer me that this little guy can’t? Seems like I’ve got everything I need, without you trying to stick your nose in.”

Not what he meant to say, exactly, but it wasn’t a no. It’s an invitation.

"That finally got through to you, eh! Geez, you were really far gone, weren't you!" John is pleased as all can be, not seeming the least deterred. 

There's something about it, the challenge Dirk proposes. It makes him all squirmy, makes him want to put his hands on Dirk, squeeze and pull at him and  _ pull _ some more, see where the cracks starts showing and dig his fingers into them. 

It's kind of a scary feeling to sit with, but he figures, if anyone could handle that, it would be mister too-cool-for-school in front of him. 

"Weeeell..." He does a slow roll in the air, drawling out the word. "For one, you said the machine could only edge you at  _ best _ . So, if you're okay with only being edged I guess that's fine...?" 

He hovers over to Dirk, flicking his finger up so Dirk's shades will flip up onto his hair, but he flips them off completely- oops. They clatter to the table. 

Not minding that at all, John rakes a hand through Dirks hair, marvelling at the stiffness of it. He wonders if it'll break if he presses down too hard. Haha, sick burn. 

"And actually, I want to fuck you really hard, and I  _ definitely _ want to make you come. I figured you'd be up for anything, and I want to try some things out!" He grins, electric blue eyes darting to Dirk's mouth and up to his orange eyes. 

John wants to  _ claim _ . But it'll be better if Dirk lets him, he's sure. 

"I'm sure I'll  _ steal your breath away _ ." He snickers at his own pun, then pushes their lips together, because, well, he wants to!

The casual, light, carefree whisp of John’s words leads Dirk to believe that the guy isn’t actually a threat. It’s easy, calm, like the coming and going of the breeze. Even if what he’s saying is unexpectedly dirty, Dirk is positive that he can handle whatever this pipsqueak throws at him.

His shades clattering to the table leaves him feeling more uncomfortable than anything John says does. But he doesn’t have time to feel properly exposed before John is kissing him, and oh, okay, that’s fine. Actually it’s pretty good.

A false sense of comfort settles over him from the simple touch. He embraces it for a few seconds, before serving a little bit of balktalk. “Don’t touch my hair,” he says, lips still brushing with John’s. 

He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t deny the kiss. He doesn’t deny any of it. Why should he? “Take my breath away, huh? Do your worst, little boy, I’d like to see you try.”

John's intense gaze is still glued on Dirk's eyes, and he takes in the way they betray that slight discomfort from not having his shades on. 

It's funny really, how people just assume he's all nice and happy-go-lucky. Well, he  _ is _ , most of the time. Hard to not be when they created utopia. 

It just gives him a slight advantage when people underestimate him. 

Instead of removing his hand from Dirk's hair, he feels it crunch in his hand as he gets a firm grip on the swept back locks on the back of Dirk's head, holding his head firmly in place. 

"Okay!" 

When John takes a breath in, Dirk's breath is forced out. And when John breathes out again, Dirk can't take a breath in. 

Sweetly, John brings his lips together with Dirk's again, giving his lower lip a small nibble; then he leans back and beams. "Get it? I took your breath away!" He laughs in that carefree manner of his, tugging Dirk's head back by the hair, glancing down at Dirk's neck, down his tank-top. 

Yum. 

"I'm thinking we should head to the bedroom- do you want to bring your sextoy, or should we leave it?" .... He laughs when he remembers Dirk can't answer. "Just nod or shake your head!"

The grip in Dirk’s hair is irritating. He _ just said  _ not to touch it. Does John already not understand what a boundary is?

John is smiling at him though, lulling him back into that false sense of security again. A strange feeling comes over him, like he’s being squeezed, and then it’s  _ tight.  _ He tries to shake it off, to suck in a breath, but he  _ can’t. _

Jesus christ, he  _ can’t.  _ He  _ can’t breathe. _

Mild panic washes over him. Suddenly, he is very aware of exactly how strong the grip in his hair is. John is  _ strong. _ He’d be scared, if he were smarter. But he’s not very smart.

The unexpected loss of breath has his vision fuzzing up around the edges. He wasn’t  _ prepared.  _ And it doesn’t seem like John cares, he’s still just smiling so sweetly. His heart starts pounding in his chest as his body struggles against his mind to start fighting.

He doesn’t move.

He shakes his head at John’s question. Fuck the puppet. He’s pretty sure they won’t need it.

"Gotcha! No puppet!" John lets Dirk take one deep breath in, but then whooshes it out of him so he can't start coughing. He could start twitching though. 

"Maan, I'm a  _ little _ disappointed. Are you one of those, bark and no bite kind of dudes? I pretty much thought that was Dave, haha. Don't tell him I said that though." He gives Dirk another quick, filthy kiss, winks at him, then pushes him hard backwards, downright cackling with mirth. 

He doesn't let Dirk fall to the ground though. The wind catches him, follows the momentum of his hard push to send him to the bedroom, and John pursues swiftly, feeling himself dissipate to air briefly before he's with Dirk again, both him and breath pushing Dirk into the mattress with so much force that the bed creaks ominously. 

He materialises again, heavy on Dirk's stomach. "I have a  _ lot _ of things, I wanna try! I'm glad you said yes, I don't know  _ what _ I'd do if you said no!" His powers are still keeping Dirk flushed,  _ pushed _ into the mattress, and John leans down to hover his face over him. 

"Breathplay was the first one! Do you like it...?" He strokes his hand curiously over Dirk's neck, the force of his wind-powers making various metal screws and papers fly around the room. 

"I can feel you running out of oxygen... Don't worry, I won't let you  _ die _ !" His eyes are glowing blue a little when his powers are this active, so wide his smile looks fake. "It's all fun and games!" 

Finally, when he feels Dirk really start to struggle under him, he forces breath into him again, letting him choke on the force of it. With a thought, he lets his wind-powers dissipate as well, knowing that Dirk's arms are probably noodles now. 

Sure enough, he brings Dirk's hands over his head and up against the bedpost with incredible ease, and he snickers, "Honestly, I thought you were more of a 'I need to top to validate my masculinity' sorta guy! Glad I was wrong!"

Relief washes over Dirk when he’s allowed to take a breath-- but it only lasts for a second before cold terror grips him again. It’s not even the lack of air that gets to him, it’s the  _ power. _ John isn’t even touching him, and Dirk can’t flex his lungs no matter how hard he tries.

The shove is yet another shock, like weights on his chest, where he already feels too heavy. It’s weird, makes him feel disoriented to be suspended in the air like this. With nothing to support him, with _ nothing in his lungs.  _ Maybe it’s his own breath keeping him afloat. Points to Egbert for irony.

When he hits the bed, he’s  _ heavy.  _ His body is heavy on it’s own, tight and empty. But then there’s a weight on him, too, and it’s not John. 

Until it  _ is _ John.

As hard as he’s trying not to react, his body is starting to tremor. It starts in his chest, makes his hands twitch. He needs to breathe, oh god, he’s going to die--

_ I won’t let you die-- _

Fuck.

He can’t keep a solid thought in his head. His breath isn’t the only thing being forced out of him. His strength. His thoughts. He can’t get a grip on any of it.

When John releases him, he’s gasping, coughing, shockingly vulnerable. His limbs feel numb, pins and needles spreading like bugs through his body from the lack of oxygen in his blood. He’s dizzy. He doesn’t even try to stop John from playing with him.

A moment passes. He thinks it’s a moment.

He takes a ragged, shaking breath and opens his eyes. When did he close his eyes?

John’s fake smile hits him hard. Dirk underestimated him. He’s not sure how he should feel. His thoughts are sluggish to return, but there’s one thing he does know: He can’t back down. Not after John taunted him like that.

His voice comes out on a rasp. He’s as steady as he can be, when his lungs are screaming. “If you watched my pornos, you’d know better.”

Dirk is still trying to act tough, isn't he- despite the way his breath is shaky and ragged, despite his extremities probably being numb and weak. 

Perfect! 

John brings his hand down to twist Dirk's nipple, leaning back a little to laugh. Still all bark, but honestly, if Dirk hasn't done anything by now, does he even have any tricks up his sleeve?? 

"I'd know better if I watched your porn...?? Haha, I didn't know you were funny, Dirk!" 

With a soft sigh, he takes in the visage Dirk presents to him; face reddened, eyes squinted up, limbs shaky. It's a good feeling, knowing he did that to Dirk. 

Even when he knows it's not because of pleasure. 

"So, I'm gonna fuck you, right? But I'm kinda wondering how to make that more interesting..." He keeps pinching at the nipple, tugging at it and twisting at it cruelly. 

"But hey, you're the sex-freak, right?? You got any creative ways for me to pick you apart?"

As if the overwhelming breath play John just threw at him wasn’t enough, he’s asking Dirk what  _ else  _ will break him down? He really thinks that Dirk is just going to lay all his cards on the table like that?

Well. He’s not. But he takes John asking him as a hole in his jar’s lid. A little bit of wiggle room. He’s had enough air in his lungs now to get the gears moving in his mind again. How disappointing. 

The hard twinge to his nipple is good, but it’s muffled through his tank top. And on it’s own, it’s not really… going down in the history books or anything. It’s too  _ merciful. _

He makes eye contact with John now, eyes steeled over and defiant. “You keep saying you’re going to fuck me, but so far all you’ve done is show off. Maybe you could start by losing the clothes.”

He rocks his hips up fruitlessly. John didn’t even have the decency to sit down on his cock. Maybe John plans on depriving him to death instead of actually letting him cum. 

He can’t say he’d hate that. The suffering gets him off just as much as the touching.

“You need a step by step guide, baby boy?” he asks. His eyes are narrowed into a glare, but his face is probably still red. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, I’d be happy to take over.”

As Dirk keeps on rambling, John's smile gets stiffer, the crinkles around his eyes going lax. 

Not even half a second after Dirk's finished talking, John takes Dirk's breath away again with a forced bright chuckle. 

"Wooow! You were a lot sexier when you weren't talking!" Even though Dirk can't breathe, he still puts a hand over his mouth, demonstratively. 

"You have such a potty mouth too! Here I thought about being nice to you, but you're just  _ gagging _ to be broken, aren't you!" 

John's free hand slips under the tank-top, sharpening his wind and easily cutting through the fabric. They're gods, they can afford a tank-top or two. 

Once the top reveals Dirk's chest, his smile seems to brighten up again. He gives Dirk's chest a smoothing stroke up and down, feeling the way his lungs are desperately trying to expand. 

"But that's okay, Dirk." He pulls at the other nipple cruelly, twisting it slowly, his eerie stare still on Dirk's face, his glasses glinting blue from the glow in his eyes. 

"I wanted to make you cry anyway!"

Dirk’s head fills with the sounds of John chuckling as his breath is stolen yet again. At least he’s a little bit ready this time, not that it matters. It’s not the same as holding his breath; he doesn’t get a lung full before stopping. It’s just  _ gone. _

His mouth goes lax under John’s hand, open, soundless. It doesn’t make a real difference, but John’s strong hand on him makes him… feel even more helpless. Damn.

His eyes flutter and go slightly crossed when John tugs and twists at his nipple again. That heavy, sick weight settles into his chest again, crushing him, pushing him further and further away from his own mind.

It’s so… satisfying. The numbness. The lack of thoughts. He could stay here forever.

The panic pulls at him again, his lungs struggling and starting to spasm. It hurts,  _ it hurts, _ and his vision starts to tunnel. He’s sure that John will let him go, he has to, _ he has to, _ it hurts--

But he doesn’t.

Every part of him goes tense, his legs pulling up and bending at the knee, his hips bucking uselessly into John’s body, his hands coming up to scramble at the hand over his mouth. It’s  _ crushing him, _ his body convulsing, he needs to get away, he needs to  _ breathe. _

His eyes flutter still, over his blackening vision. His fingers go weak around John’s wrist. His dick is  _ so fucking hard. _

John's eyes never leave Dirk's face, seeing the way it reddens, then slowly shifts towards purple. 

It's satisfying, like seeing a bruise come to life in fast forward. Dirk's eyes stand out beautifully against his darkening complexion. 

As hands weakly scrabble at his hand, when Dirk finally starts  _ fighting _ for air, John gives out a breathy, aroused laugh, rewarding him with  _ life _ . 

With John's hand still over his mouth but spread apart, air pushes into Dirk, and he lets Dirk breathe three whole breaths before stopping him again, this time with breath  _ in _ his lungs, ballooning his chest up a little. 

"You're like a little fish like this, you know that...?" He moves his hand so he can play with Dirk's lower lip with his thumb, licking his own lower lip slowly. "I'm just pulling you in and out of the water. You lived surrounded by the sea, didn't you? Did you ever almost drown...?" 

He scoots back, feeling Dirk's arousal rubbing against him- he tuts condescendingly. "Well, you  _ really _ don't need your fucking-smuppet though, do you! That's kinda depraved of you, Dirk, did you know that?" 

Sniggering into his own shoulder, he scoots back to straddle Dirk's thighs instead, swirling wind around his fingers casually. "I'm not one much for finesse, but I think I can cut your pants off without cutting you too..." 

If he sounds uncertain, it's because he wants to. Eyes look up to Dirk hesitatingly, thoughtfully. 

"Do you want me to try...? Oh!" He facepalms and shakes his head, laughing some more- his laugh is becoming more breathy, and slightly more high-pitched with excitement, "You didn't want to say anything, right-- Off we go!" 

Slitting dangerously close to a precious vein, he fucks up Dirk's zipper, cutting through cloth and digging just slightly into Dirk's skin. 

"Oops!! Haha, you okay??"

Dirk  _ heaves  _ in air, when he’s allowed to. Every part of him shakes, trembling terribly with the stress of nearly passing out. His heart is pounding in his ears, so hard and so fast, he doesn’t hear a thing that John says to him.

His lungs are forced still once again, but it’s different this time. He’s  _ full  _ of air. It’s uncomfortable, choking up into his throat and trying to force its way out, but of course John wouldn’t let that happen.

John… Dirk is no match for him. He can only have what he’s allowed by John, and nothing more. Nothing less. That sickening laugh echoes in his ears. He embraces the cold comfort of not being able to feel anything.

His body jerks as John brushes over his painfully erect cock. He struggles to whine, to pant, to let out  _ some  _ of the pressure building up inside him, but nothing comes out. Not a single sound.

His heart is going to jump out of his chest at this rate.

He can hear John talking to him again, laughing, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s weight on his thighs now, but honestly, he doesn’t know why or how or when that happened. He can only assume that it’s John, but…

He’s numb again. The static is back, he can’t feel a damn thing. His writhes around the air stuffed inside him, arching off the bed, struggling fruitlessly. There is no escape.

Just John…

John frowns when he gets no recognition for his hard work, his nice words. 

He looks up to see Dirk proper struggling, then blinks and sits up straighter, letting Dirk breathe out. 

"Aaah... Yeah, that was silly of me-- you guys get all woozy-headed without air, don't you! And numb. Ugh, you're all pretty damn weak, really!" 

Too bad. He wanted to see Dirk all panicky. He'll need Dirk to be more present. 

As he waits for Dirk to at least regain some control of his breath, somewhat enjoying his coughing, rasping breaths, he uses both hands to rip open Dirk's pants properly, exposing his cock to the air. 

Haha, unintended pun! 

"And you can't feel anything either like that, can you! Wooow, rookie mistake on my part. Maybe I  _ should _ have watched some of your porn..." 

He leans down more, breath on Dirk's erection, but he's not aiming for that. Instead, he lets his powers press Dirk into the mattress again, turns his head so his face is against Dirk's exposed side, and  _ bites _ . 

With the force he's using, his canines and sharp flats sink through the skin, and he moans. Holy shit, he's never tried biting anyone that hard before, but feeling blood well up around his teeth is  _ exciting!  _

John sits back up again, licking his mouth, his gums red when he grins to Dirk again. "Hey, are you back online?? Did you feel that bite??? I had to test, cause you totally didn't feel that cut to your almost-dick just now! Hey, answer me!" 

He claps at Dirk's cheek unkindly, a 'wake up, important shit happening' motion that makes John remember old-school action movies.

The sticky, cold, comforting blackness starts to fade. Sensation trickles in, and when Dirk can feel again, he realizes that he’s choking. His throat is raw, his  _ lungs are raw. _ Everything aches, but it’s dull. Muted. Nothing matters.

His thoughts aren’t spinning. He feels good.

A sharp pain in his side brings him back, and suddenly sensation is rushing through him again. He hisses, throws his head back against the pillows. His fingers clench into fists, a strained whine catching in his throat. The sound of his own voice is disorienting, like it’s not real, none of this is real.

Another sharp pain in his face, once, twice,  _ fuck,  _ okay,  _ enough. _

John’s voice pierces through him, cuts through the pleasant darkness.

_ ’Answer me!’ _

When Dirk finally manages to open his eyes, they’re glazed over. He sees John, surrounded by the light of the room. He’s surrounded by John. By his air. The air belongs to John, and he just lets Dirk have it. What a nice guy.

What a  _ cunt. _

“I…” The vibrations of his own voice in his chest, the way the air moves in and out of his lungs, he’s too aware of all of it. “...I’m still awake…” He’s not sure if that’s what John asked, but he’s sure he’ll be corrected if he’s wrong.

"--" John's mouth opens a little, and then he's laughing again, taken aback; wow, he must be really oxygen deprived if he's not even half listening to what John's saying. 

It's called survival instinct, Dirk! Look it up with your huge nerd-brain! 

"Wow, I just got the coolest line in my head-" He leans down, cupping Dirk's throat with both his hands, licking his lips where a thin layer of blood has been spread.

"Even the cleverest, sharpest brains are useless without air, Dirk Strider." 

He doesn't laugh, eyes wide and grin stretched as far as it'll go, his own breath unfairly deep and even. Gently, he presses his thumbs on the sides of Dirk's throat, cutting off the blood-supply slowly. 

"Pretty cool, right! Has that kind of heroic inevitability to it, doesn't it?" 

He looks down to his still clothed nethers, sighing. His dick is really hard, and he wants some friction. 

It takes a little concentration, but he manages to just turn his legs into air; he uses a gust to blow away his pants, then materializes again, pantless. 

"Haha! Did you see that! Learning new things every day!" 

He squeezes down a little harder, pretending it's not on purpose.

John’s hands around his throat are grounding and warm. Something solid to hold onto, after being so thoroughly pulled apart by _ nothingness.  _ Having feeling in his body again is almost startling, it’s too much. 

He wonders if he came or not, while he was too far gone to know it. How embarrassing would that be? How disgustingly erotic?

His heart is still pounding, pumping heavy amounts of blood through his system. It halts under John’s thumbs, though, throbs there, makes him dizzy. It’s a different kind of dizzy from before. Lighter. Headier. Pleasant, without the utter crushing darkness. Is John going soft on him already?

His eyes are still dazed when opens them, trying to listen to what John is saying. He watches half of John’s body disappear and then blinks back into existence, only naked. Weird. John sounds proud of himself.

The hands around his throat go tighter, impossibly, and Dirk is reminded again of just how strong John is, for a skinny little fucker. 

The throbbing in his throat is doubled in his side and near his dick. Is he bleeding? Why would he be throbbing like that if he weren’t bleeding? What did John do to him? Why is he coherent enough to  _ wonder _ these things?

John is playing with him. He should be scared.  _ He should be scared. _ But he told John to do his worst, and this is what he gets. Maybe if he’s lucky, John will make him feel something.

Or make him feel nothing.

“You’re kind of sick, you know that?” he rasps. His vision spots deliciously, his head pounding. He can’t wait for John to actually fuck him, but he won’t say that.

John sucks a voiceless little breath in through his teeth, eyes squinting up a little in glee; now see, here's that stubborn little shit he  _ thought _ he was going to dom today! 

"Haha, you know what, you're the first one to tell me that! That's funny, right?" He wants to slap Dirk's dick, make a statement. "Who's the sick one here, the one who does this, or the one who likes me doing it?" 

He presses down further onto the points on Dirk's neck, pushing around gently with his thumb, trying to find the ligaments that coincide with the models of throats he's found online. He  _ thinks _ he can feel the vein he's supposed to push on. 

Oh well. If he dies, he dies. Haha, kidding! 

"But okay, so I kinda know I'm sick- I think we're all kinda sick, you know?" When he feels like Dirk's been cut off blood too long, he removes his hands and puts them on Dirk's chest instead, watching him wheeze. 

"And you know another thing? I didn't even question if I was anything other than straight before I started thinking these things!" He pushes Dirk's flat tits together, scooching forward so his dick can rub at the small cleft he's making. 

"I thought, tits or I'm out. But see, you've  _ got _ tits, don't you!" He throws his head back and moans a breathy laugh, precome smearing over Dirk's chest as he plays with it, pushing his pectorals together the best he can, nipples squished and stretched in the process. 

John bites his lower lip, excitement bubbling in him like lava. It's unfair, how hot this gets him. How Dirk, weak and defenceless and  _ hard _ under him gives him a powertrip like nothing else. "And you love getting fucked too. You like being  _ played _ with!" His hips rolls seductively, his dick squeezed between Strider titties, balls soft on Dirk's skin. 

"But you just caaan't admit it, can you~?"

Dirk can breathe, but he still feels like he can’t. His breath only comes in short, little pants, and it’s not enough to wash away the dizzying light-headedness. The dark euphoria lifts him up, and he swears he leaves his body. The fingers digging hard into his throat are the only things reminding him he’s alive.

He can’t help the shuddering gasp or the way his body arches when John finally lets him go again. He chokes on air, eyes wet with the way his own breath rattles in and out of him. He almost wishes John would _ let him  _ pass out. The teasing dips into unconsiousness are almost enough to make him beg for it.

Beg for John to hurt him.

He can feel the purpling in his skin, the handprints that will be left on his throat. It’s good, it hurts, it’s so fucking satisfying. His cock is still hot with arousal where John has refused to touch it. He’s been sweating, stressed, and it sits like ice on his skin. Too hot and too cold, all at once.

And then there’s a weight on his chest, and he grunts as the air is pushed out of him. Automatically, his hands come up to grasp at John’s wrists. The rush of air scratches in his throat, tries to make him cough. He chokes it down the best he can, swallowing around the tickle, managing to get away with some light wheezing.

A double take-- wait, what is John saying to him? He’s girly? His tits--

_ His what? _

He groans as John squeezes his chest; hard, firm hands. Demanding and insistent. His searing, wet cock drags across Dirk’s skin, and suddenly Dirk is very present in the situation. “What the fuck?” he demands, as offended as he can be when his voice is so broken.

It’s so unexpected and degrading, he’s actually shocked. He can’t do more than just let it happen. John is heavier than he looks, and his full weight is pressing Dirk squarely down into the mattress. He might be able to push the guy off, if he weren’t still trembling so badly. He’s pretty sure his arms and legs are useless at this point.

His eyes are open, really open, for the first time since John kissed him in the kitchen. They’re glued to his own chest, to John’s hands, the way they squish his pecs together, to John’s flushed and eager cock. 

He digs his nails into John’s wrists, because he’s  _ stuck. _ He’s back online, but he probably lost more than a few brain cells while he was blacking out, and he doesn’t know how the fuck to respond to this.

He licks his own dry lips, eyes still glued to the cock that he thought was going to be fucking him in a very dfferent place. His chest aches with abuse, his outsides and his insides both thoroughly  _ used.  _ For a straight guy, John might actually know what he’s doing. 

_ Might. _

Dirk can’t give him that much credit when it kind of seems like he’s been guessing. Someone with a properly functioning sense of self preservation would have been sent running a long time ago.

Maybe John isn’t good at this, maybe he’s just  _ violent. _

Either way, it’s hot, and Dirk can’t keep his hands to himself anymore. His hands shake when he lets go of John’s wrists, but he does it with confidence. He flattens both hands over the top of John’s thrusting cock, pressing it tighter against his own chest.

“You’re lucky I’m a good sport,” he says. Like he’s not the one that’s lucky to still be alive.

Some luck.

He finally turns his eyes back up to John’s. The blue is menacing, frantic. Hysterical. He looks like he’d snap Dirk in half without thinking twice about it. It’s cute, if you ask Dirk.

"Aahh-... A good sport...?" John supposes so; the way Dirk is cutely trying to help jack John off, or help him titfuck him... "Just because you want me to rub my dick between your tits? If that's what you wanna call yourself, Dirk, that's fine!" 

Slowly, enough that Dirk shouldn't be able to notice it at first, he steals Dirk's breath away. "Take over for me so I can continue fucking your tits- I'm not done choking you just yet!" His hips keep rolling, and he puts Dirk's hands into his own hands' previous position. 

Satisfied and extremely excited that things are moving along so smoothly for him, he leans down the best he can to Dirk's face, grin still large on his face. 

"Such a good boy for me. Or are you a good girl...?" He smoothes a hand through Dirk's hair slowly, repeating the gesture. After a couple of moments, he starts deflating Dirk's lungs again. 

"Open your mouth up wide, and I'll let you breathe again. Be a good little slut and do as I say, okay? Or it'll hurt a lot!" He soothes his hand over Dirk's hair as if he cares, still rutting into Dirk's cleft. The way Dirk holds his tits together is sooo funny. 

"Oh man!" He leans up and slaps his own forehead in irritation, "I should have brought a camera! I could've sent your picture like this to aaaall our friends- I'm sure they already know you’re a slut, but this is just  _ embarrassing _ , right...?"

Dirk’s grip isn’t as strong as John’s was. His arms feel like spaghetti after being so deprived of oxygen, but he does his best anyway. He doesn’t really get what John is getting out of this, but he’s had dicks smeared on him in weirder places than his tits.

His  _ pecs.  _ Christ, he’s not going to start calling them that.

He’s vaguely aware of his breath coming shorter. He assumes that it’s from John’s weight on his chest, but then it gets  _ worse. _ You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but his lungs still ache with emptiness. It reaches all the way down into his stomach and _ squeezes. _

Embarrassing? Is Dirk’s shamelessness a joke to John?

He’s caught for a moment, with a very important decision to make. He needs John to know that he’s not  _ embarrassed.  _ He’d readily open his mouth up and let John do whatever it is he’s planning to do. Humiliate Dirk? As if.

However… if he doesn’t, John has promised that it will hurt. And Dirk is pretty fucking interested in finding out what that means.

But if he doesn’t open his mouth, John will think he’s  _ won. _

The decision swims in his head with the growing numbness as his lungs begin to convulse again. His hands go tense on his chest, fingers flexing in hard, desperate, but they don’t push together anymore. The slide of John’s dick over his skin goes from hot, to warm, to cold.

His thoughts scatter. His eyes start to water again. He’s so weak already, from the previous abuse, he’s  _ almost there…  _ Fuck John, and fuck what he thinks. As long as Dirk can get off, does it really matter?

Even as his body screams for release, begs for him to open up and take a breath in, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t open his mouth.

He can barely make out John’s figure though the blackness, but he looks up anyway, with as much defiance as he can manage. 

For the first time, John's smile twists into something dangerous, lips pulling back into a disdained snarl. 

"I said  _ open your mouth _ ." He lifts himself up and slams his ass down on Dirk's stomach, forcing the rest of the air out of Dirk mercilessly, digging his thumbs in on either side of Dirk's rows of teeth, leaning over him menacingly, forcing Dirk into breathing again. 

In, out, in, out, in, out, so fast it's like he's doing CPR in fast forward, making Dirk hyperventilate by making his lungs work overtime. "I thought you were going to be good!" It comes out accusing and bratty, the look in his eyes thunderous, "I keep giving you chances, but you keep pushing me away. But you  _ can't _ push me away!" He gathers all the spit he has in his mouth, having gathered up quite a bit, leans in, and spits it straight into the back of Dirk's throat. 

"I'm being  _ kind _ , Dirk. But bad boys like you don't deserve kindness, do they." 

He stuffs three fingers into Dirk's mouth, wriggling them unhelpfully against his tongue, enjoying how Dirk's forced-panicked breath pants back and forwards over them. 

Easily, John turns his head to the side, finds a good spot on Dirk's shoulder, and bites down again, hard.

If there is one thing Dirk will learn today, it's that John can be surprisingly authoritative!

Just when Dirk thought he couldn’t feel any emptier, John proves him wrong by deflating him completely. It destroys him, makes him see stars. He’s pretty sure that he actually blacks out for a second, because the next thing he knows, he’s hyperventilating.

John is  _ angry. _

The forced speed of his own breath is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. He’s been choked. He’s been used and hurt. He’s been through a lot, as far as that goes, but  _ this?  _

His slowed heart rate picks up again, so quickly, all at once. Every part of him lights up with sensation, no control,  _ no control.  _ John spits in his mouth, and he chokes on it, the forced intake of breath pulling it straight into his lungs.

His eyes are more than wet now. His body finally can’t take it anymore, his lungs are on fire, wracked and painful and he’s crying.

If anything were going to embarrass him… this is it. He doesn’t cry. He  _ likes _ the pain, likes the loss of autonomy. But this is on a whole other level and he can’t  _ stop _ the tears. They’re hot on his cheeks, and he’s grateful when John turns his head away.

The bite that comes next would make him yelp if he weren’t still hyperventilating. It’s so deep and so sharp, it’s almost grounding enough to pull him back from… wherever it is he’s going.

He’s going.

It’s not enough.

He’s still so hard, his dick is crying almost as much as his eyes. The bite is the last straw. His body might be going into shock, and that’s how he cums. 

He would be ashamed, if that’s the kind of thing he could feel. Instead, all he feels is relief.

It’s short lived, however, because John doesn’t seem intent on stopping. 

Seeing Dirk coming undone is one of the weirdest, hottest, funniest things John has ever taken part in; and he's taken part in a lot of weird, funny stuff! 

He looks behind himself to see Dirk's cock twitching and leaking, fingers pushing deeper into Dirk's mouth, tickling at his tonsils. "Wow, you really came from just that, didn't you!" 

The fingers are pulled out of Dirk's mouth, and he dries them on Dirk's cheek without looking at him. "I guess only the biggest, filthiest, sluttiest freaks can come from being scolded like a kid!" He moves his hand back to feel at the mess Dirk has made of himself, gathering up some of the come, scooping it up. 

When he looks back, "Awww, are you  _ still crying _ ?" John laughs at the way he can hear Dirk breath rattling with his spit, how he's forced to breathe through it. "I guess that means you're regretting being a little bitch, right...?" not wanting Dirk to pass out from hyperventilating, he slowly forces Dirk's breath to slow, all deep and quiet-like, but still hearing that rattle. 

Dirk would probably be coughing his lungs out, could he control his own breath right now. 

Once his breath is somewhat stable, John cheerfully takes his cum-filthy hand and pushes his coated fingers in Dirk's mouth, rubbing come onto his tongue and gums and palate. "Heeere you go. Good boy! You did such a good job, opening your mouth for me!"

John leans forward again, his smile gone again. He doesn't care if Dirk has to cough.

"Suck."

Dirk feels too much, and nothing at the same time. The relief from his orgasm leaves him peaceful, pliant, completely willing. He listens to everything John says to him, and yes, yes he’s all of those things. He’s filthy, he’s a freak. In this moment, he’s anything John wants him to be.

His lungs are on fire, itching with the need to gag and to cough. Everything aches like he’s been through hell, and maybe he has. It’s pleasant, dull, screaming, all consuming. It’s perfect.

Eagerly, he takes the dirtied fingers into his mouth. His wet eyes fall closed and he does as he’s told, sucking the fingers until they’re clean. He swallows around the digits, running his tongue along the length of them. He’s glowing with the praise, he’s _ good, _ he can be so good for John, as long as John keeps him here.

Suspended.

Numb.

Brainless.

He makes a small, delicate noise as he sucks around the fingers. He doesn’t stop, even when they’re clean. Even when all he can taste is John’s skin. God, John tastes so good. John is so good.

He sinks into himself. The wounded parts of him throb with the pounding of his heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Suck. Lick. Swallow.

There's startled fascination on John's face as Dirk seems to finally, properly  _ fold _ . 

Gently, he pulls the fingers out, a warm smile starting on his face. "Such a good boy.. You only needed to do as I said, you know..?" 

He scoops up more of Dirk's come, giving his shaft a small stroke to squeeze out some of the remaining spunk, then feeds it to Dirk again, chuckling happily- he's so cute! He's so soft!

John doesn't quite know what to do with him now! He was expecting a bit more of a fight, but he can't say he's overly disappointed! 

Once he's made sure Dirk sucked him fingers clean again, he dries his fingers on Dirk's salt-tracked cheeks again, sitting up some, he scooches forward until his own hard dick is swaying over Dirk's face, his balls brushing against his lips softly. 

"I think you need to show me how much of a good boy you are, Dirk- tell me you're a good boy, then lick my balls!" His voice is back to being perky and chipper, and he gives himself a stroke from base to tip, sighing out in bliss. He'll fuck Dirk, but first he wants to see how Dirk is doing in the 'following orders' department.

Dirk easily swallows the rest of his own cum, taking everything that John will give him. He whines when John takes his fingers away for the second time. He tries to follow, but his body is weak, and he doesn’t even make it off the mattress.

The only thing he knows has been taken away from him, and for a moment, he’s lost. For a moment… he starts to panic. He doesn’t even realize that he’s breathing on his own. The only thing he knows is that John’s not in his mouth anymore, what is he supposed to  _ do-- _

John’s voice pulls him back in. He breathes a sigh of relief. 

With a new direction, he doesn’t feel so lost. Latches on. He happily opens his mouth again, reaching up with his tongue to lap at John’s balls, just as he;s been told.

He licks and licks, his face relaxed, content to keep the rhythm going. There’s comfort in it, in the repetition, the pattern, the  _ system. _ He  _ gets it, _ it’s easy. He knows this.

Part of him longs to take John back into his mouth. Suck on his balls and roll them around on his tongue. But that’s not what he was told to do. That’s not what John wants.

He licks in earnest, waiting for John to tell him he’s good. 

"Mm." He lets Dirk lick at his balls for a bit, but pulls back after a little; while it feels  _ good _ , he  _ did _ ask something else of him. 

Gently, John cups his own balls so Dirk can't continue licking them, looking down at Dirk with a dangerously icy smile. "Why won't you tell me you're a good boy, Dirk? Tell me you're a good boy,  _ now _ ." He soothes a thumb under Dirk's eye, feeling at how the eyelashes tickles at the pad of it. 

Something in him has calmed a little, but it feels like this isn't  _ enough _ . There should be more. He needs  _ more _ . 

He strokes at Dirk's hair a little frantically, smile pulling wider over gritted teeth, ready to dig into Dirk should be fail to please him again. He seems so sweet now, so compliant. So why isn't he? Why isn't he compliant? Why does he have to  _ ruin everything _ ?!!

"Waiting for you, Dirk..!" he sing-songs it softly, giggling breathily.

No…

No, why does John sound disappointed?

Dirk opens his mouth to respond, but finds himself sucking in a breath.

_ Don’t panic, don’t panic. _

“I’m good,” he says in a rush. His heart thuds even faster, it fills his ears, makes him ache.

His words slur together when he speaks. “‘M good, ’ma good boy, your goodboy, yours, ‘m tryin t’be good…” The effort it takes to talk is too great, it’s exhausting. His lungs don’t know how to work on their own anymore, and he finds himself heaving when he’s done.

He reaches up again, tongue first, brushing against John’s hand pleadingly.

_ Please forgive me, I’ll be good… _

Please don’t be disappointed.

John immediately seems pacified, and he cooes at Dirk gently, smoothing at his hair more gently, "Ooh, I see, you're just too out of it!" His smile turns warm, makes his eyes crinkle. 

"You're doing  _ such _ a good job, Dirk... Just do whatever I say, and you'lll be the best boy, my best little boy!" He moves his hand away, sliding it behind Dirk's neck and pulling his head upwards a bit, his balls resting on Dirk's face again.

"Such a good boy now, was that so hard, Dirk..? I think you're doing a great job! You have to suck my balls now, okay? Be careful and don't use your teeth, or I'll get mad!" 

Squatting over Dirk like this is a little awkward, but John finds that seeing Dirk like this, practically  _ begging _ John to use him, is more than worth it. "I can't wait to fuck your ass, Dirk! Can you imagine how good that'll feel? Haha, I wonder if you'll even remember this later, you look like you've taken drugs or something!" 

He keeps soothing at Dirk's hair, sounding well pleased; he even licked John's hand! Who does that! 

"One day, I'll let you lick my come off the floor. Maybe today is that day! Huh. I'll think about it!"

John is proud of him. John is  _ happy  _ with him. Dirk is good. He’s so good, he wants to be  _ so good _ for John.

He unabashedly moans when John puts his balls back in his face. His mouth is downright dry between his own breath flowing through it and the fact that it’s empty. He wants John back inside him so badly that he’s drooling.

With permission, he opens up and wraps his lips around one of John’s balls. His sucks gingerly, carefully-- ’no teeth,’ John warned-- and presses into it with the flat of his tongue.

He falls into patterns again.

Suck. Roll. Lick. Suck.

Other side.

Repeat.

His hands come up without him realizing to hold onto John’s thighs. It’s a desperate, selfish thing to do. To keep John close, to keep John in his mouth, to keep being good, because it’s all he can be.

Johns hips undulates downwards in rhythm with Dirk, soft, stuttery little moans slipping out of him at each little suck. Dirk sure knows what feels good! "You probably have sex so much that you know exactly what feels good, don't you..? Y-yeahh, take a little more into your mouth, like-- m- mm, yeah,  _ that _ .." 

The breath god's chest rises and falls a little more deeply, wind ruffling both their hair, and John slides a hand down his own chest, strokes his cock once and slides his hand up again, tilting his head to the side, giggling softly in way that almost breaks into a moan again. 

"Okay, good boy, wait a minute now, okay?" His balls are drawing up warningly, and he doesn't want to spill right away! Dirk needs to be fucked ho, he'd promised! 

After a last suck, he cups his own balls again and lets Dirk lick at his hand as he scooches back and off Dirk, using his wind to push Dirk's legs open. 

"Hey, since you like pain, should I just stick it in..?" John feels at Dirk's perineum, then thumbs his way down to his hole with his free hand, pressing at it. Hmm, quite dry. It probably won't feel good for John if he forces his way inside! "Hmmm.... Stay still for a little bit okay?" He pats Dirk's cheek with his now spit-wet hand, leaning over to the nightstand, opening it up. 

Yeaah, of  _ course _ Dirk has lube in the drawer! Condoms too! He doesn't give a fuck about those, but the lube is nice! 

"There we go! Okay, let's see! Hmm." He walks on his knees until he's between Dirk's forced open legs, and, after figuring out the tip of the lube-bottle is about the width of a finger, he can simply just push the head of it in and give Dirk a good, long squirt of lube. Some of it immediately spills out, which he giggles and makes a face at. 

"Is it weird I find that a little hot??" He stuffs two fingers into the poor guy under him, wriggling them and hearing Dirk's hole squelch. "It's a little weird!"

Dirk finds himself at a loss again, when John takes away his fixation. His mouth his empty and his chest is empty and his  _ being _ is empty.

He stutters a breath and whines weakly, his mouth open and panting. John’s voice fills his ears and… calms the storm in his head. It spreads through him and starts to fill in the gaps, but he’s still floating, still lost.

He can’t tell where the voice is coming from. His hands clench into the sheets at his sides.

And then he’s  _ cold. _ Cold from the inside out, oozing, spilling, oh no,  _ he’s spilling,  _ he’s already so empty, he can’t--

Oh, he’s full again. John’s voice still plays like the sweetest song in his ears and he’s full again, so good,  _ too _ good. His ass squeezes down around the fingers, desperate to keep them in, to stay stuffed full, it makes him shudder, moan, clench the sheets.

Arousal pulls hotly in his abdomen. He’s hard again.

His mouth is still empty.

He sucks in a breath, biting his own lip. His tongue rolls over the flesh, searching, needy.

More, more, more....

He tries to ask. His mouth moves and sound comes out, but it doesn’t make sense in his ears. He hopes that John will understand him, he  _ needs _ John to understand.

Seeing Dirk trying to make sense of what the fuck is going on is highly entertaining, and actually really hot! 

John continues to fuck his fingers into Dirk, pretty hard, but not like,  _ porn-hard. _ He just figures Dirk can take it, since he after all had lube in his drawer. When you just jack off you use hand lotion or something, he thinks anyway? Whatever, this is fine! 

With no care about what Dirk might be feeling, he slips a third finger in, gasping a little and looking down between them, grin widening, eyes still wide and a little unfocused, "wow.. Wow! The noise is disgusting, but you're like, really warm inside! I mean, I should've guessed that, you're human haha. But like, it's  _ warm, _ and it's so tight. I think I'm going to like fucking you, Dirk! Isn't that nice??" 

Dirk is making some kind of gibberish sound, his tongue swiping along his lips like a mutt searching for food. 

"Wow, okay? I guess you really liked sucking my dick...?" 

He kind of doesn't want his own dick-spit in his mouth right now, so instead, he stuffs a couple of fingers into Dirks mouth, "suck them, Dirk! Pretend like it's my dick, and be all nice and gentle!" John doesn't know why, but Dirk being gentle while pleasuring someone just feels  _ right. _ Like Dirk has to work extra. 

John kind of wants to work Dirk to death. 

With a final squelch, he pulls his fingers out of Dirk's ass, looking down at the messy sight. "Wow... Your hole is twitching like crazy. I get why people think it's hot now!" 

A flick of his hand, and he pulls Dirk's lower back off the bed, and he leans over to grab a pillow and set it under him so that he can angle them together just right. 

"I'm gonna put my dick in now. Do you want me to go slow or fast..?" 

He knows Dirk won't answer. He kind of enjoys him not being able to.

A sigh breathes out of John as he scoots in closer, grabbing hold of his dick with the fingers that's not rubbing against Dirk's tongue. 

The first thrust slips. The second one, his cock catches against the rim. 

The third thrust, he's in all the way. John chokes on a yelp. "Fu-uck-!"

No thinking required. No feelings required. His hips move on their own, and his hand is death-gripping at Dirk's hip as he jackrabbits into the man under him, going hard and unforgiving, chasing his own pleasure stunned grunts. 

"Shi- hit- it - ahhh-!" He feels so close already, it feels  _ so good, _ "feels- it feels- so good- mmh! So warm- fuck- ---  _ yeah... _ Aahh-..." His fingers fucks into Dirk's mouth at the same time, tickling at his tonsils.

Dirk is grateful for everything that John gives him. He eagerly takes John’s fingers, relieved to have something to fixate his mouth on again. He seals his lips around the digits, sucks at them, lets John play with his tongue as he pleases. He’s being fucked from both ends by John’s fingers and it almost feels like an embrace.

Wrapped all the way around him.

Inside him.

Like a hug that pushes up all the way under his skin.

His bliss breaks when John pulls out of his ass. He whines around the fingers in his mouth. John moves him around, and he’d squirm if he could, impatient,  _ needing. _ The slip of John’s cock against his hole is the worst kind of tease, but when he finally slips inside, Dirk sees stars.

He moans deeply and opens up for the way John fucks into his mouth. Fingers jam into the back of his throat, and he chokes around it, but it feels so good, he can’t even try to keep himself together. He’s cumming again in what feels like seconds, and then his body is alight with pain all over again.

John thrusts into him so roughly, his ass, his mouth, every single piece of him is shattering. If he felt like he was going to die before, he’s  _ alive _ now.

“John--” he gasps, and he’s suddenly writhing again. He’s feeling so much, all at once, like he’s being torn completely in two. He’s painfully aware of exactly how easy and submissive he’s gotten, and damn it all, how the fuck did he let that happen. 

He knows how. It was the near-death-experience, and the next one, and the next one. John played him like a fucking violin, gave him everything he needed to shut the voices out. And now they’re screaming at him. He’s still hard, his body too tense to let him go soft.

_ ”Fuck!” _ he hisses. The last of his tears squeeze from his eyes as he clamps them shut. How fucking humiliating. There isn’t an ironic way to spin this, if he tried.

Dirk moaning his name through sucking desperately on his fingers makes John's focus snap up to meet Dirk's gaze, pupils pinpricks. 

"Shut up!!" He stuffs his fingers deeper into Dirk's gullet, relishing in the way he gags. "You're being good for me right now, you don't  _ need _ to talk. You need to be a  _ good boy!" _

Gagging Dirk like this, feeling Dirk's nose unable to draw in breath when they clog up from mucus, knowing Dirk won't dare to bite down. It calms him down a little. Woops, was he thrashing the room again? Well, sounds a like a later-Dirk problem! 

Oh, he forgot he was fucking Dirk now. Woopsies! To make up for lost time, he fucks into Dirk at a faster pace, seeing that white is already on Dirk's stomach. "Oh did you come?? Wow, I'm just continuously amazed at how slutty you are, Dirk! Did you know you could come with just your ass? I've read online that's actually kind of rare, or that it at least demanded some work- but you came, and we've barely done anything!" 

That makes him feel justified to chase his own pleasure; Dirk is still hard, and John is having a little trouble climbing up to that peak, his muscles tight as a bowstring, his gaze unable to settle anywhere comfortable.

So he continues hammering in, adding some more lube when he feels a burn from the friction; better make it comfortable for himself if this is continuing.

Dirk gags around the fingers that get jammed down his throat. He’s not usually a gagger, but it’s so fucking rough, and he’s already so worn out, his throat doesn’t know how to handle it anymore.

The lack of air makes his vision fuzz again, and… that’s exactly what he needs now. Part of him wishes John would suck the breath out of him again and just leave him there to die. He can still sort of breathe right now, and it’s not enough to pull him back under. His subspace is shattered. He can hear every word John says, feel every brutal snap of his hips.

He wants to ask for John to hurt him again, to put him back out of his misery, but John didn’t respond very well to being spoken to. Or rather, to Dirk speaking. He has a feeling if he tried again, John wouldn’t give him what he wanted. But maybe… he can get it another way. 

His jaw hangs open, mouth obediently wide for John to finger as he sees fit. Even as his throat struggles to reject the abuse, he chokes it back with as minimal noise as possible. The choking is unavoidable, though.

That’s the extent of his submission, though. John doesn’t like it when he moves, right? So he reaches up, wrapping both hands weakly around John’s wrists. He rocks his hips, just a little, as much as he can, to meet John’s thrusts. A nonverbal  _ ’fuck me harder, daddy’ _ if there ever were one.

Not that he feels that way about John. But.

John's glasses are barely hanging onto the tip of his nose, his eyes such a bright, steely blue they seem to be glowing. 

"Knew you couldn't be good." Wind bears down on Dirk like gravity, uniform and relentless, pushing him into the mattress and moving Dirk's flimsy grip on his wrists to down on either side of the blonde's hair, making soft dents into the mattress. 

Something crashes against the wall. John doesn't seem to register it, as good as looking through Dirk instead of at him. "Never good. Can't tell you to do one thing! You don't know  _ anything!!" _ He stops slamming his hips into Dirks' for a second, just looking down at him, past him, face blank and eyed wild, a storm around them. One of the fingers deep in Dirk's mouth rubs at his soft palate almost thoughtfully, feeling how his throat squeezes around him. 

... 

Seeming to snap out of it, blinking and the smile pasting itself onto his face, eerie cheerful. 

"Haha, joking! It's not your fault, that was a little silly of me! Wow. I think that was like, almost slutshaming! Sooooorry!" He rakes the nails of his free hand down Dirk's chest, seeing how red lines immediately follows. "Haha! Always wanted to try that!" He looks under his nails to see if he got any skin with it, and when he doesn't, he does it again. 

John's hips starts moving again, the storm in the room still raging, his dick so hard he could probably use it as his specibus. 

"Dirk-...Uughh I'm so close, but you're so _ boring! And _ you're a bad boy! Tsk tsk!" Finally there's skin under his nails! Dirk bleeds red, just like all the other humans. Or, he hasn't seen Jade's blood in a while, but he's pretty sure it's still red. 

Davesprite's blood was orange. 

"Oh, I know! This'll tighten you all up!" He wraps wind around Dirk's neck like a chain and  _ squeezes,  _ hoping to feel Dirk wriggle under him until he comes.

John is… intense. And Dirk doesn’t scare easily, but if he were someone that weren’t literally just thinking he wanted John to kill him, he might be scared. He should be scared. Things are flying around the room and John is all but screaming at him. He’s pressed into the bed and he can’t  _ move. _

The nails in his skin hurt-- everything hurts. It borders on something that starts to make Dirk regret his decisions, but then John gives him what he wants.

He stops breathing, and slowly everything fades away again.

Fuzzy.

Numbing.

Panic--

_ Thrashing-- _ no, still can’t move.

Can’t… think.

Fading.

Thankful.

As Dirk’s world slips away from him, his body can only react in a way that would be natural. He squirms until he can’t. His eyes flutter, even if he can’t see, until they can’t. He wonders if he’s dying, until he can’t. 

He’s conscious, until he’s not.


End file.
